


Could I, I Certainly Could

by frostybutt



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: I'm trying to keep this rather slow burn, Lots of cursing in this one, M/M, Percival Graves doesn't need a hug he needs something stronger with more percentage, Percival Graves has had IT and decides to fuck everything, Rating and Warnings might change as the fic progresses, Skinny Dipping, This seemed like a fun concept at 3 in the morning after my third whiskey, Unresolved Sexual Tension, also a lot of self indulgent imagery, but knowing my impatient ass this'll go downhill real fast, especially concerning Graves appearance, for now, i feel you buddy, stay tuned for rimming and other fun hijinks, there'll be some awfully filthy smut in the following chapter/s, this could've gone angsty as all hell but I had to be a fucking clown, you've read right folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-20 07:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostybutt/pseuds/frostybutt
Summary: The "What if Percival Graves saved himself and took the opportunity to fake his own death and escape his old life" fic nobody asked for.Events take place right after the movie ends. Let me apologize beforehand for inconsitencies and grammar/spelling mistakes, I'm trying my best to stay consistent.If you're wondering, the title is a reference to a Ruth Etting song of the same title which seemed appropriately fitting.





	1. Aparecium

**Author's Note:**

> I was debating whether to upload everything in one swipe or throw chunks out into the void. Obviously the latter won, so we'll see where this'll take us.

The case tugged snug beneath his legs, Newt watches the vast scenery of New York City grow smaller the further the ship pulls out of the harbour and into the width of the atlantic. Not many passengers remain on deck as soon as it starts to drizzle, the majority of them sharing an equally melancholic look towards the city. All except one.

 

Newt hardly noticed him at first. There was nothing outstanding about the man seated a row beside him, his dark brown woolen coat seemingly too large for his emaciated frame. With wild strands of dark hair continuously strewing wild in the harsh winter breeze, but he doesn't seem to be bothered in the slightest. From this angle, the strangers eyes look almost black in their sunken sockets, staring with intent and unblinking at something in the distance until he turns his head.

 

Their eyes meet and Newt can feel an icy chill run down his spine as he holds the strangers glance, too struck by a sense of recognition to face away or even blink. Every muscle in Newt's body tenses as the stranger shifts slightly in his seat, although he can't say why. The sudden noise of the ships horn breaks him out of his trance and makes him wince, overshadowing the quiet whirl of magic extruding next to him. And when he blinks again, the seat beside him is empty, leaving him exhaling a breath he wasn't even aware of holding.

 

-

 

By the dawn of the next morning the encounter is merely a blurry memory in the back of Newt's mind. After all, there was nothing extraordinary or prohibited about other wizards using muggle transportation, even ones that looked vaguely familiar. Although he had to admit, something about the piercing glance kept coming back to his mind. It felt versant, careful yet appraising at the same time, almost like a cornered predator weighing out it's odds to successfully strike an attack or retreat.

 

He encountered it again in the crammed dining area. Crouched in the far corner of an otherwise unoccupied table, the by now familiar stare keeps following him as he stuffs his pockets with bread and makes his way back towards the exit without paying it much mind. Even without looking, Newt can feel it in his back, following his every step until irritation wins over caution and his head snaps back to look over his shoulder, only to be met with the same emptiness as the day before.

 

This game of cat and mouse continues over the course of the day, until Newt felt what little patience he had with this vexing man dwindling entirely. He waits until the break of dusk, choosing a remote area on deck to make his next move. With his hands stuffed in his coat pockets and gripping his wand firmly, he waits and looks over the vast ocean. Not for long as it turns out. Tentative steps announce the presence of his mysterious spectator, stopping in the shade just behind the magizoologist. Newt doesn't have to turn around to know it's him. The breeze carries a whiff of magic emitting so strongly from the other individual, it's almost graspable. A signature he'd felt the second he disapparated and followed him around since. It wasn't exactly threatening. But none the less vibrant and reason to be vary.

 

“I like to consider myself to be a pacifist, you see. But I'm not going to just stand here and don't defend myself either should someone decide to ambush me.”

 

Newt is met by silence, but the man is listening. He can feel his intent gaze piercing into the back of his head as the aura around him increases. It almost reminds him of the obscurus, Credence, down in the subway tunnel. A memory he quickly pushes aside to carry on talking tentatively.

 

“I saw you in the dining hall this morning. You didn't eat. That struck me as odd.” His hand moves in his left coat pocket and Newt can hear the man shift behind him, likely to retreat. He slowly pulls out a small loaf of bread and holds it offering behind him, finally turning his head over his shoulder to look at the other, who blinks between the offering and Newt, obviously thrown off by the gesture. “Take it, I can see that you're in need for food. No offense, but you look awful.” And for the first time since they locked eyes, the man's expression softens to something resembling a tired smile.

 

“None taken.”

 

His voice isn't necessarily what Newt expected it to be. It's raspy and deep, although there's a softness to it that he can't deny.

 

With the 'pleasantries' out of the way, Newt turns to fully face the man, still extending the offering out to him until the other accepts it and their hands touch for the brink of a second. They stand in silence for a moment without any further introduction, until Newt breaks it first with a clear of his throat, hand promptly stuffed back into his wide coat pocket.

 

“Right then. I'm sure I'll see you around.” Newt nods and prepares to dash past and put this whole tedious affair behind him, but the stranger won't budge, instead staring him down with those way too dark eyes. Just as the unease starts to spread, the man looks down at the bread in his hand and sobs.

 

_Oh, booger._

 

As if it wasn't bad enough to be observed and followed around, dealing with a clearly distraught and possibly dangerous man wasn't exactly on top of his priority list. Newt's eyes dart frantically around to assure that they're alone and takes another careful step toward the other. “It's just a bit of bread, nothing to get worked up over. I didn't mean to offend-”

 

“It's the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time.” A quiet voice responds and Newt feels his breath hitch in his throat.

 

That just wouldn't do. With an equally quiet tone, Newt tilts his head and offers a small smile. “How would you feel about telling me more about it over a cup of tea?”

 

-

 

The man had agreed reluctantly and followed Newt to his cabin in the belly of the ship. It was sparsely decorated, merely containing an excuse of a bed (which resembled more of a straw stuffed matress really) and a nightstand, not that it mattered with a complete hut to his disposal. There was usually nobody to accompany him on his journeys, so he didn't see the need in investing into unnecessary luxuries like a bigger bed or additional sitting space. Now it bit him right in his figurative ass.

Newt glances from his guest to the case tugged underneath the bed, suddenly unsure if he should go through with this. But they'd come this far, it'd be rude to send the other off again.

 

“Hold on a moment,” Newt mutters and ducks down to retrieve the case, well aware of the curious look the other shoots him as he descends in its depths. Before the stranger even gets the chance to inch closer and cast a glance inside, ginger locks pop back out, carrying a tray of steaming cups with him. In record time, one might add.

 

“Undetectable extension charm.” The man states the obvious with undeniable inquisitiveness in his tone, making Newt's lips curl to a gallant smirk as he sets the tray down.

 

“A necessity if you're a perennial traveler. Sit, please.”

 

Just as Newt finishes speaking, a stool floats up from the case with a quick flick of his wand. In turn, Newt sheds his coat and takes a seat on the creaking mattress, nodding invitingly for his guest to do the same on the conjured stool. He doesn't get rid of the oversized coat, but at least he finally sits, clutching the steaming cup in his hands. They're calloused and caked in dirt from what he can see, but Newt is polite enough not to comment on it.

 

“You're not from America.” Another careful formed statement, Newt observes with a quirk of his brow. He nods and hums in response as he starts sipping his tea, which seems to relax the gruff figure visibly, seeing how he takes a slow sip of his cup as well.

 

“British. What gave it away, the tea or the accent?” Newt inquires bluntly, which earns him another faint smile from the other. A sight he rather prefers over the constant hard glance he's usually given.

 

“Your politeness, actually.”

 

Snorting, Newt has to avert his gaze and cover his mouth to hide a drizzle of spilled tea on his chin. A move that sets his visitor even more at ease, who finally sheds his coat to fold it neatly on his lap. His shirt and vest look equally tattered and caked in dirt, and this time Newt can't help but raise a curious question of his own.

 

“You've been through a lot, haven't you?”

 

The man furrows his brows and looks like he's going straight back to raise his defenses, when another moment passes and his shoulders slump with an exasperated sigh. “It's been a rough month.”

 

Newt doesn't ask any further questions. Not that he isn't intrigued in the slightest, quite the contrary. The strange encounter that started as a minor headache turned out to be a rather welcome and interesting change of pace on the week long travel back to Liverpool.

 

“I'm sorry,” the brit replies sincerely, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully. With a quick glance over his guests unshaven and tainted appearance, Newt decides to be even more forward than he already was. There was no pain in offering after all.

 

“We're about the same height. There's some clothes in my shed I could spare. And a warm shower. I can see what I can do about repairing those tattered rags, my sewing skills are a bit rusty.” The man's eyes grow wide as saucers as he stares Newt down like he sputtered utter nonsense, which, in Newt's humble opinion was by far the most irritating thing up to this point. Looking down at the cup in his hand he continues none the less before he'd change his mind. “I don't mean to offend, I'm merely offering-”

 

“You don't even know my name.”

 

Now it's Newt's turn to look vexed. “That didn't stop you from following me into my cabin for tea.”

 

Taken aback, a faint flush speckles the man's pale cheeks as he chuckles embarrassed under his breath. So he was capable of laughter after all, a welcoming sight after all the previous bitterness. Newt made a mental note to explore this strange mans capability of emotions further, given the chance.

 

“I don't know how to possibly make up for all this. Mister-?”

 

“Scamander. Newt Scamander.” He smiles and holds out his free hand, only to be met by yet another bewildered stare and a visible tense in the others posture.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Out of all the reactions Newt expected, varying from a friendly handshake to a reluctant flinch, bellowing laughter and profanities certainly weren't part of it.

 

“I'm sorry?” He squints at the still wheezing figure and is met with a quick wave of the other to signal him to wait, who clearly needed more than a cup of tea and a shower to collect himself. Newt bites his lip to swallow a groan of frustration, ready to give that lunatic a piece of his mind when he finally speaks up again.

 

“Out of all the people- I'm running into Theseus brother. Fucks sake. I knew I recognized your mug from somewhere.”

 

Some of Newt's tea spills over his thigh as his cup tips over, realization hitting him all at once like a ton of bricks as he connects the dots. That familiar feeling back on deck. The cold stare- Sure, his face was overshadowed by thick stubble and strands of unruly hair, but if he looked closer and added some mental pounds on his figure-

 

“Graves? Percival Graves?” Newt croaks, throat dry as he swallows and leans over to inspect the face closer for the first time.

 

“In the flesh. More or less.”

 

_“Fuck!”_

 

“Well said, Mister Scamander.” Graves flashes him a grin, whatever timid apparel he sported previously melting off the malnourished features within seconds.

 

“But how- you died! They're looking for your remains!”

 

Apparently pleased to hear that, Graves nods and calmly sips his tea. “Good. I'm glad to hear things still run according to protocol, even without me around to guide this incompetent bunch.”

 

Flabbergasted, Newt blinks from the other to his own spilled tea, only now noticing the puddle spreading on his trousers. He'd lost it. This couldn't be real. Perhaps the murtlap bite he'd received during his morning feeding rounds had worse after effects than he previously thought, even though the specimen had still been young. Or did he accidently mix some of the hallucination inducing stimulating herbs in his tea again? No. No matter how much he tried to delve deep into denial or explain the situation rationally, the man in front of him remains, sipping his tea with a calmness that only made him question his sanity further.

 

It was at this point that another terrifying idea forms in the back of his mind. “Why didn't you report back as soon as you escaped?” If he escaped at all. As far as Newt was concerned, Graves might've just as well been involved with Grindelwald. He gulps as dark eyes stare blankly back at him.

 

A tense moment of silence passes, with Graves setting his empty cup down on the tray.

 

“Now what would've been the point in doing so?” Graves responds wryly, folding his legs as he sits back more comfortably. “Grindelwald managed to overthrow and infiltrate the magical congress through me, using my identity. Let's say I was found alive by MACUSA, as far fetched as it might seem given their track record so far. The least thing I'd have to face would be days of pressing questioning, followed by months of getting tailed by aurors to assure my involvement with Grindelwald was indeed an involuntary one, not to mention intensive background checks. My face will forever be connected to the worlds greatest threat, my reputation ruined. There is absolutely no way I'd be able to hold my position as head of security.”

 

Newt opens his mouth to respond, only to close it again. As much as he dreaded to admit it, Graves had a valid point.

 

“But what about...don't you have a life to return to?”

 

“Being held prisoner gives you plenty of time to think,” Graves continues and seemingly ignores his question, that tired smile re-appearing on his lips as his eyes trail off. “He took my wand after imprisoning me and raised wards to assure I was unable to use any kind of magic, though that didn't stop me from trying. Eventually I noticed the wards weakening and was able to dig my way out. Quite literally.” As if to prove a point, he raises his dirt caked hands with a small shrug at Newt's gasp.

 

“That must've been around the time I captured him and broke the disguising charm...” Newt mutters pensively more to himself, catching a surprised rise of Graves brows out of the corner of his eye.

 

“You were the one who captured Grindelwald?”

 

Newt feels heat rise to his ears and he immediately ducks his head with a small shrug. “It was more of a group effort, really.”

 

“Seems like I have to make up for even more than a cup of tea and a piece of bread.” The warmth in Graves tone is enough to let a smile tug at the corner of Newt's lips. This man had absolutely nothing in common with the cold blooded, cocky figure Grindelwald represented.

 

“Don't forget the shower and spare clothes,” Newt looks up to meet Graves gaze with a more genuine smile. “That is, if you're still up for it.”

 

“Yes.” Graves sighs. “I'd really like that.”

 

-

 

What seemed like a good idea at first, quickly turns into regret as Newt comes to the realization that he did, in fact, invite a complete stranger into the very heart of his sanctuary. With Jacob it had been different. They'd made their acquaintances, more than once, and Newt had grown fond of him rather rapidly.

But with Graves- he turned out to be more complex than he led on at first glance. Or second. He'd lost count by this point. Although, weirdly enough, Newt came to realize that he rather appreciated the challenge.

 

“Come along then,” he comments as he brushes past Graves and briskly descends the stairs down to his shed with an impatient wave of his hand, kindly ignoring the mesmerized stare this time. “Times are wasting, I'd like to get you settled before my evening feeding round.”

 

In contrary to Jacob, Graves follows his host without hesitation, although his steps are way more wary. The lid shuts and locks on its own as soon as he reaches the bottom, making him flinch.

 

“A safety measure.” Newt remarks softly over his shoulder as he notices the subtle shift in Graves posture, absent mindedly browsing through drawers for toiletries and spare clothes. “More to keep things out rather than in. Although, ah- it does double to keep certain peeving pests from going out on a robbing spree.” He adds with a guilty smirk at the perplexed expression on the others face.

 

There's another significant difference between Jacob and Graves he notices, much to Newt's dismay. While his muggle companion was too taken aback by the buzzing wonders of magic around him, Graves gaze follows his every move permanently without a word. That would certainly take time getting used to. With his own eyes fixed on a spot somewhere on Graves shoulder, Newt pushes the bundle of items hastily in his guests arms. Their hands touch briefly again as he accepts them, this time feeling more intentional and making Newt look up to catch a glimpse of a smile tugging at Graves lips.

 

It takes Newt a good portion of time to notice just how long he kept his eyes transfixed on Graves lips, and irritatingly enough, the smug bastard noticed it too, seeing how the smile grows wider by the second Newt manages to avert his gaze. Good to know at least one of them drew enjoyment out of Newt's embarrassment.

 

“This way to the washroom.” He has to squeeze past Graves figure in the limited space of his hut again to fish for a clean towel behind him. “Now if you could just- you're making things rather difficult.”

 

Newt huffs, squinting at the other man as he snickers, still not moving an inch. If Newt didn't know any better, he'd assume Percival Graves, former head of magical security made it his new task to make things difficult on purpose for the one person who took pity on him. Shoving the towel roughly atop of the assembled pile of clothes and soap, the brit huffs once more, arms crossed in front of his chest.

 

“Out the door, down the hall. Take the first door to the left. I assume you won't need my help to find your way into the shower.”

 

Graves gives him a considering look, and Newt can almost feel a vein pop in exasperation from continuously staring him down. It's becoming considerably more easy to keep eye contact with him ever since he started to view his guest as another project, rather than some rugged and starved stranger he'd taken in out of pity for the time being. That didn't stop it from being tedious in the slightest though.

 

“Perhaps another time,” Graves eventually responds sweetly with that now familiar crooked smile as he finally moves towards the door.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Never say never, Mister Scamander.”

 

Newt finds himself looking after Graves in disbelief long after the door had closed, only breaking out of his trance at the sound of creaking pipes and the exhausted puff of the boiler as the shower starts up.

 

The man was nothing like his impersonator made him out to be. Although Newt wasn't quite sure whether he preferred this vulnerable and flirty side of Percival Graves over the cold and stoic one that tried to murder him on several occasions. But that was a question he could tackle another day.


	2. Serpensortia

Precisely forty five minutes into pacing the hut and sending nervous glances toward the still closed washroom door, Newt decides it's time to knock and ask if Graves needs help. If nothing else, he tells himself, to make sure Graves wouldn't waste what little hot water he'd left.

 

His knuckle barely touches the sturdy wood as the sound of rushing water shuts off at once, followed by heavy wet steps over creaking floorboards. Newt bites back a surprised yelp and retreats backwards, eyes darting around frantically to find something, anything, to make himself look busy. His saving grace turns out to be the latest issue of the New York Ghost he'd grabbed near the pier before he and Tina said their goodbyes.

 

Only seconds before the door opens, Newt successfully flings himself over the backrest of his couch to lie sprawled out and flick through the pages, if not a little breathless and with a staggering heart.

 

“Oh, you're finished?” He asks as nonchalantly and disinterested as he can muster without looking up from the newspaper he buried himself behind. The flowery scent of his soap inches closer, mingling with the prickling spark Graves aura emits and making Newt shiver slightly. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Graves was unable to release any sort of energy within such a long timespan to make his aura sizzle in such a fashion. Or it was just the way he always was to be around Graves. Either way, Newt found it to be more than distracting, if not a trifle entrancing.

 

Graves doesn't respond. He's close, Newt can tell that much. He dares a peek over the rim of his cover and immediately regrets his decision.

 

Despite the provided razor and shaving cream, Graves decided to keep the stubble on his prominent cheeks. Although he seemed to have put it to good use on his hair. Still wet and slicked back like that, he resembled more of his old self than he did back on deck. The most signifficant difference being the mischievous glint in those piercing dark eyes that meet his gaze easily. Not to mention the slight change in his usually broad physique. There were still distinguishable muscles filling the sleeves of Newt's spare shirt, flexing as Graves adjusts the cuffs. But they weren't as distinctive as Grindelwald made them out to be.

Newt found he rather liked it. Especially with his black suspenders stretching perfectly over Graves chest to hold up the slightly too long trousers.

 

“See anything interesting?”

 

“What?” Newt blinks bewildered, only to find himself to be the recipient of Graves toothy grin as he nods towards the newspaper in his hands.

 

“In the Ghost. It's hard to make anything out myself when you're reading it upside down.”

 

Newt pales. The paper crumples noisily between his clenching fingers before he hastily throws it aside on top of an unread pile of old magazines next to the couch. That smug son of a flobberworm- In one swift movement, the brit sits up straight and clears his throat. “No, nothing of interest. I doubt Madame President would let any details slip out about the...the incident.”

 

Graves eyes cloud as he nods and sits next to the other with a pondering frown.

 

“Figures. If there's anything Phina takes great pride in, it's sweeping unpleasant occurrences under the rug to keep the sheepish masses calm and happy.”

 

Something in Graves' tone catches Newt's interest. “You sound very...ah. Convicting. For someone who works in such a high position in the magical congress.”

 

“Used to work,” Graves corrects him wryly. “By boarding this ship, I made the conscious decision to leave my life and everything it represented behind. Percival Graves, head of magical security doesn't exist anymore.”

 

The weight of Graves creed makes Newt inhale sharply, which doesn't go unnoticed by the other. His gruff features soften with an apologetic attempt of a smile.

 

“How about we start this whole thing over?” He offers his palm openly towards the magizoologist, who takes it cautiously. “Percival Graves, at your service. Friends call me Perce.”

 

Newt eases into the handshake and snorts, whether it is caused by the nickname or the idea of Percival Graves having friends, he can't say. “Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, at yours. Please call me Newt.”

 

“And you thought my name is ridiculous?”

 

Percival grins, matching the others beaming glance as he's hit by a weak nudge against his shoulder.

 

“Everything about this situation is ridiculous, Perce.” Newt tests the name on his tongue and can't bring himself to stop smiling. “I owe one of my middle names to my mothers favorite hippogriff. And I assure you it's not Fido.”

 

“I think Artemis rather suits you.” Percival muses after a moment with a tilt of his head. Heat rises to the tip of Newt's ears and he has to avert his gaze, pinning it somewhere behind Percival on a blank space of wall.

 

“Everyone calls me Newt.” He responds dryly and congratulates himself on his steady voice despite the treacherous flutter in his stomach and the telling hue of red his ears must sport by now.

 

Thankfully, Percival drops the matter easily with a small shrug.

 

“Didn't you mention something about a feeding round earlier? Perhaps I could make myself useful.”

 

Newt's eyes lit up with an enthusiastic nod as an idea forms in his mind. “Yes, actually. I assume you're not afraid of serpents or are allergic to any kind of plant in particular?” He asks with a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

Percival's brows furrow warily. “Not that I'm aware of, no.”

 

“Excellent. You can help me milk Mildred and her sisters.”

 

Before Percival can get another word in, he's dragged along quite persistently by a surprisingly strong hand around his wrist, with the magizoologist leading them out the front door of the hut.

He barely has time to adjust to the blinding artificial brightness of the Arizona desert before entering the lush green tranquility of a bamboo thicket.

 

“Best stay close and don't stray from the path, you wouldn't want to step on a Dugbog. Their bites are rather nasty once they get a hold of your ankle,” Newt chimes up needlessly, seeing how his iron grip remains firmly around Percival's wrist. Not that Percival would've wandered off on his own either way, rather inching closer to the other as they make their way toward the entrance of a cave system. He's sure to spot glimmers of blue and bright purple beneath the green around them, accompanied by constant buzzing and scurrying of claws.

 

“You know, your brother wrote me to keep an eye out for an aspiring magizoologist carrying a case of beasts into New York. But he never told me you're traveling with a private zoo of possibly deadly critters.”

 

“My brother doesn't have to know everything.” Newt scoffs with a roll of his eyes, suddenly coming to a hold just in front of the cave. His eyes are trained on Percival's, suddenly defiant as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. The gesture almost reminds Percival of a stubborn child.

 

“I can very well handle myself and the beasts in my care without Seuss and his pompous influence as an auror and war hero.”

 

“I don't doubt that for a second.”

 

Newt's jaw clenches and he eventually nods. With a flick of his wand, he conjures a metal bucket and hands it over to the other. “Let's find out how you handle yourself around Mildred, shall we?”

 

-

 

Mildred, as it turns out, is nothing less than the right head of a fully grown Runespoor, specifically distinguishable by a white cone around her scaly red neck. “To prevent her siblings from biting her head off for her constant nagging, you see.” Newt had explained mere minutes ago as Percival got his first good glance at the full scale of the creature. The three heads of the seven foot long serpent hiss in unison at the intruders, but Newt doesn't seem fazed by it in the slightest. He actually clicks his tongue in disapproval and the three heads lower to his level.

 

“That is no way to greet a guest. I thought we talked about this when Mister Kowalski came by last week and you snapped at his behind!” The left and middle heads lower even further in a shameful gesture as Newt scolds them, while the right keeps staring with interest past Newt and towards Percival, who looks back between the four of them, clearly mortified.

 

“Mildred!”

 

Newt's sharp voice snaps and that seems to do the trick. The coned head lowers and the tip of the serpents tongue graces the young man's cheek, who smiles fondly at the creature like it's the most precious thing in the world.

 

“Atta girl. Now, open wide. We haven't had the chance to do this in a while.”

 

With a mixture of horror and astonishment, Percival watches as the Runespoor follows suit to Newt's request like a trained puppy, opening her jaw wide enough to swallow the magizoologist whole.

 

“Don't just stand there,” Newt's voice breaks Percival's trance and his eyes grow wider, if it was even physically possible. “I need you to hold the bucket for me while I milk her.”

 

Percival was sure Newt would just accio his sorry ass closer if he wouldn't move on his own accord soon, so he reluctantly inches towards them until he's face to face with the beast, bucket clutched to his chest. Without his wand at hand the unease only spread faster through him, making him tense up until a soothing palm curls around his shoulder.

 

“It's alright. I'm here.”

 

He takes a deep breath and tries to calm his nerves, giving a small affirmative nod. It becomes easier after that, with Newt conjuring a bucket of his own so they can work on both her fangs simultaneously under his instructions.

Careful not to spill any of the venom, they set the filled buckets aside and move on to Rosemary, the middle one. Things even become unexpectedly enjoyable as they finish up with Florence, the left one, just by watching Newt blossom in his work as he cradles the serpents head between his hands, making soft crooning noises at the deadly beast the size of a building.

 

“Not too bad for your first time handling a full grown Runespoor.” Green eyes glance over at the other with a cheeky smirk. “Most handlers faint at the sheer sight during their first encounter and inevitably get devoured.”

 

“I can't possibly imagine why.” Percival replies wryly, back to keeping his fair distance between himself and the beasts heads.

 

“Right?” The redhead hums and tilts his head to lean his weight against Florence, completely in his element with his hand running over the dry scales. “They're sweethearts. A little intimidating at first and no doubt venomous, but behind the scary facade they're extremely intelligent and caring.” Almost like a certain gruff wizard, but Newt kept that thought to himself.

 

-

 

“You've already done a lot for me, but there's one more favor I'd like to ask of you.”

 

The day passed quicker than Percival imagined, especially with the artificial individual climate and time zones in each habitat giving no indication of the actual time. No wonder Newt would sometimes work all through the night. He'd gotten a proper tour through the rest of the case with the occasional hold to check up on injured specimen and even more unrequited body contact from feathered and hairy beasts alike as Newt went on to feed the rest of them.

 

Now they sit relaxed next to each other in the grass over a cup of tea and sandwiches, leaned against the trunk of a large oak tree with a black platypus like creature rolled up in Newt's lap. Percival opens an eye and blinks against the sun over at the remark, humming in response.

 

“I didn't mind at all. I rather liked the physical exercise after being locked up for over a month.”

 

It's hard to see from his angle, but Percival could swear to see a smile forming on Newt's lips before it vanishes behind strands of unruly locks with a dip of Newt's head.

 

“About that,” he starts with a wistful sigh. “I've been thinking about what you said earlier.”

Percival waits patiently for Newt to continue, fighting against the anxious feeling that starts to stir through his chest. He knew it was only a matter of time until Newt's hospitality would run out and he'd ask him to leave. But he almost wished the inevitable wouldn't come to pass.

 

After what feels like an eternity in uncomfortable silence between them, Newt turns his head to look directly at Percival. Their eyes lock and for the first time, it's Percival who has to fight the urge to avert his gaze.

 

“How would you feel about becoming my assistant?”

 

The question comes out of the blue, and Percival takes a moment to comprehend the extend of it.

 

“I- Why me? I don't know shit about magical creatures.”

 

“They like you.”

 

“Not what I would call a wild stampede of mooncalves stomping over me for a handful of pebbles.”

 

“You're strong without relying on magic.”

 

“Newt, even you could have lifted those sacks.”

 

“You're a quick learner.”

 

“Have you been testing my abilities through this entire afternoon?”

 

Newt's teeth show in a more genuine, almost impish smirk. “Perhaps.”

 

Percival hides his face behind his hands and emits in laughter.

 

“You sly son of a-”

 

Newt interrupts him with a click of his tongue and leans closer, the same click he'd used earlier to chastise the Runespoor. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

 

Their faces are mere inches apart, Newt's warm breath gracing his skin as he husks so close to Percival's face. The urge to lean over and close the gap between them almost wins over to prove a point to Newt, but he bites it down with a shake of his head. “I could do way worse with that mouth of mine.”

 

“Is that a promise, Perce?”

 

Merlin have mercy. Percival wasn't even aware someone as tender and sweet as Newt could produce a purring sound like that.

 

He swallows around the lump forming in his throat, keeping perfectly still while he sinks deeper into the depth of those green eyes.

 

“Suppose you'll have to wait and find out.”

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

“It's a maybe.” Something in Newt's expectant expression dulls as he blinks, smile slowly decreasing.

 

“Give me a night to sleep over it.”

 

Visibly disappointed, Newt leans back against the trunk and continues to pet the sleeping Niffler in his lap. “You can use the couch in my hut if you'd like. But I understand if you'd rather not.”

 

“No. I appreciate the offer. Thank you.”

 

Without another glance at Percival, Newt rises to his feet with the Niffler pressed gently to his chest, only stopping shortly to direct one last question at the other.

 

“I'll see you for breakfast. I assume you won't need my help to find your way into the bed?”  
  


Although Newt can't see it, Percival smirks as he recalls almost the exact same conversation going down not too long ago.

 

“Perhaps another time.”

 

“Hmm. Perhaps.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for leaving this with being a tease  
> I'm torn between being proud of myself for not having them fuck JUST yet and being annoyed for drawing it out so long. There'll be filth in the next chapter, pinky promise.


	3. Reparo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you enough for all the nice comments and the encouragement! When I started this pet project, I never expected it to receive that much attention.  
> I hope the anticipation for this chapter was worth the wait :')

Waking up in the dark in an unfamiliar setting was one thing. He was almost used to that by now after the past month of captivity.

Waking up in the dark with distant buzzing, chirping and a definite warm weight on his chest was a whole new level though. It takes Percival a minute to find his breath and remind himself that he's not stuck in the wooden crate anymore, buried good three feet underground near the docks where Grindelwald ambushed him. “So you won't get lonely,” the son of a bitch had said in a sickeningly sweet voice before closing the crate and covering it in soil. And he had kept his word.

 

Percival could hear New York come to life around him, day in and out, muffled and distant but constantly present while his cries for help were swallowed until he'd lost his voice entirely. Grindelwald merely visited him once, maybe twice a week during the dead of night to provide him with anything necessary to keep him on the verge of living. Throughout his visits he wore the face of Edwin Reid, a former officer in their linguistic department. The same face he'd worn as he attacked Percival during a stake out.

 

Reid was part of the group that got wiped out in Europe as they finally cornered Grindelwald and came home as the sole survivor to tell the story. Or so everyone thought. The poor sobs corpse was never recovered to Percival's knowledge, which wasn't surprising seeing how the lot of them were reduced to dust, while Grindelwald had all the freedom to study the way MACUSA and _he_ operated in his stolen identity.

 

He just concentrates on breathing, slow and steady. His surroundings are warm and dry, nothing like the cold and damp hard wood that cornered him. He can move and stretch his limbs, although the warm weight shifts and protests in a low purr as he does so. Percival finally opens an eye at the noise and smiles at the sight of not just one, but two young Kneazle's curled up in the blanket covering his chest. A third one blinks back at him from the other end of the couch at his feet, the felines amber eyes glistening in the dark as their gaze meets.

 

Careful not to disturb the skittish creatures, Percival sits up slowly and lazily scratches the one on his lap behind the ear, who happily rolls over and reveals her belly to demand more.

 

“I see you've met the children.” A quiet voice speaks up from the doorway and Percival can almost hear the smile in the soft tone.

 

Without looking up he moves on to turn his attention to yet another demanding feline that begs for pets with a headbutt from his left. With a lap full of contently purring kitten Percival's eyes finally look up to meet a pair of curious green ones. Newt remains still leaned against the doorway, a steaming cup in his hands that he occasionally lifts to his lips to take sips as he watches the other man.

 

“I hope they didn't wake you up. They usually stay in bed with me, but I had to get up earlier than usual to check on a few special cases.”

 

“No. It's fine. I've woken up to worse things.” Percival gives a small smirk that only widens when the third kitten with amber eyes climbs on the backrest and eventually onto his shoulder. “Are they always so ah...affectionate?”

 

“Only when they find someone willing to pet them for hours on end. I'm afraid you won't get rid of them for a while now.”

 

“Suppose that means I'll get to have breakfast in bed?”

 

Newt gives one of his lighthearted chuckles and pushes himself off the doorway to step over to them, barefoot as Percival notes. He leaves a track of muddy footprints on the floorboards and crouches down in front of them to take one of the kittens into his arms. Up close, Percival notices water dripping off Newt's curls onto his damp shirt which clings admirably transparent in all the right spots to his chest.

 

He'd definitely woken up to worse things than this.

 

“I was actually going to suggest a picnic by the pond.”

 

Raising a brow, Percival considers the idea with some suspicion. “Wouldn't that disturb your breeding Kappa pair?”

 

Newt peeks up at him through unruly locks and gives a small shrug, smiling all the while. Despite Percival's previous argument of not knowing shit about magical creatures, he sure seemed to pay close attention to Newt's tour and excessive rambling.

 

“They needed a move to get more privacy. Some of the Gryndilow's keep escaping their enclosure to try and settle in their pond, so I relocated them earlier this morning in the midst of the bamboo thicket into a smaller pool. It took some convincing, but they're happier there.”

 

Ah. That would explain a lot.

 

“Well, if it won't bother any of your charges,” Percival gently grabs the kitten off his shoulder to put it beside him next to its sibling, only getting a loud meow in protest. “Breakfast in the open sounds perfect.”

 

-

 

It's becoming increasingly difficult to keep track of passing time. During his captivity, Percival could at least measure the passing days by increase and decrease of noises around him. But down in Newt's case, time didn't matter. And Percival quickly came to the conclusion that he didn't care.

 

Even if he stopped moving, the world still revolved around him without his contribution. There was no rush. No need to go anywhere unless he wanted to. Though with each passing minute Percival realized he had no desire to leave this place and its inhabitants behind.

 

At first he feared he might come to miss the buzz of the city and the rush that came with his line of work. But despite everything, the tranquility and calm overpowered whatever worry he had and nipped his anxiety in the bud.

 

Especially down by the pond with Newt by his side, their feet dangling lazily in the shallow water. They'd shared their meal in blissful silence, something Percival admired a lot about the other. Things stopped being awkward and moved on to being comforting rather quickly between them, if it wasn't for the minor inconvenience of undeniable tension that peeked through every now and then. That was still something Percival didn't know how to handle, but Newt wasn't pushy or demanding. Yet another thing he appreciated about him. The damn list just kept getting longer.

 

Casting a quick side glance at the other, Percival is met by the view of Newt stripping out of his still damp shirt with a muttered curse under his breath. It's carelessly tossed in the grass behind them, or at least that's what he suspects. Percival lost track of the damn thing the second it left Newt's skin, his eyes transfixed on a very bare and surprisingly toned chest.

 

Oh.

 

Swallowing around a lump in his throat, he watches the rest of Newt's clothes follow suit until he's completely bare and looking back down at Percival with strange intent.

 

Newt's lips curl into a smile at Percival's expression, making no attempt to hide his bareness or showing any sign of chastity. Quite the contrary. Merlin have mercy.

 

“I haven't had the chance to take a dip in months. It'd be a shame to waste the opportunity, don't you think?”

 

Before Percival can respond anything, despite doubting his ability to come up with anything remotely coherent in the first place, there's a splashing sound and Newt is already diving into the murky water below.

 

When he doesn't come up for air, fear starts to rise in Percival's chest. He leans closer over the water, frantically searching for ripples or any hint of the other in this damn pond. Fuck. That maniac probably lied about moving the Kappa's or forgot about one of them and got drowned for intruding their territory. Just when he's about to jump in himself to fight with nails and teeth if necessary, a pair of arms rises from the depth and pull him in by his shoulders.

 

The world goes black around him within seconds. Water rushes in his ears and the arms are gone around him as he struggles and pushes himself off the muddy ground to break the surface and gasp for air. Coughing, he slicks strands of hair out his eyes and turns around to glare at the source of muffled chuckling directly behind him.

 

“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, I swear to fucking god-”

 

Newt seems utterly unfazed by the glare, even smiling wider. That mischievous bastard.

“In my defense, I gave you a fair headstart to get undressed.”

 

“That is beyond the point!” He snaps more harshly than he wanted to.

 

At least that gains Percival a frown. Not exactly what he was going for, but it's at least something.

 

“I was worried. I thought you'd hit your head on a rock or one of your creatures drowned you- quit smirking when I'm scolding you, fucks sake!”

 

Newt glides smoothly closer towards him through the water, biting down his lower lip to try and stop himself from smiling. It doesn't work. And it doesn't help to keep Percival's stern glare up either.

 

“You trust me to snuggle a grown Runespoor without batting a lash but fear I might be foolish enough to dive into a pond without knowing the risk? I'm hurt, Perce.” He teases and tilts his head, arms coming up around his shoulders again, which Percival kindly ignores for his own good.

 

The scowl he gives Newt is impeccable and would have had his aurors wetting their briefs within seconds, yet it's annoyingly ineffective to a fault directed at this stubborn imp.

 

“You're full of shit, Scamander.”

 

“Call me Newt.” He corrects him, so close Percival can feel his lips brush over his own.

 

That finally does it.

 

In one swift movement, Percival's arms come up around Newt's waist, pulling him against his chest as their lips lock and he lets himself fall back. The surprised yelp he gets in response is well worth dunking into the murky water again.

 

This time it's Newt who's gasping for air as they resurface, cheeks a flattering shade of red that spreads all the way down to his chest. There's a tense moment of silence between them, and just when Percival braces himself to get his head hexed off, Newt leaps forward to press their lips together again.

It's more of a heated clash of teeth than anything proper with impatient fumbling from Newt's side.

 

“Need any help with that?” Percival grins as he parts enough to give him space and receives a frustrated grunt in response as the soaked shirt peels off his chest with a rough tug.

 

“I'm perfectly capable, thank you very much. Though this'd be a lot easier if you'd just undressed before going for a swim.”

 

Alright, scratch being polite about this.

 

Newt's breath hitches as Percival sinks his teeth in the crook of his neck for nothing more than a playful nibble, but the result is more than satisfactory. The fumbling stops instantly, giving Percival the chance to undo the button and zipper to his trousers himself. He doesn't go beyond that, instead searching Newt's lips for a more tender kiss that leaves both of them panting, pressed up against each other in the middle of the damn pond.

 

Definitely not how he expected things to be going when he woke up this morning.

 

“Should we-”

 

Percival's question is drowned in a gasp as Newt's fingertips wander across his abdomen and beneath the rim of his pants, tensing under the intent glance of those unnaturally green eyes.

 

“Take these off as well? Yes. We should.”

 

This time Newt doesn't waste any time fumbling, simply using a murmured vanishing spell to make the damp and obnoxiously adherent fabric disappear.

 

“Now,” Shivering, Percival follows Newt's gaze wander from his cock over his lips up to his eyes, a wily smirk curling the gingers lips. “I'm curious. Are you as skilled with your mouth as you led on last night?”

 

Percival and his big mouth indeed.

 

Cracking a small smile, Percival entwines their hands and leads them back onto the grass, lowering Newt on his back to tower over him with an appreciative hum.

Splayed out with droplets of water covering every inch of freckled skin, the artificial sun only adds to emphasize the glow and supernatural beauty of the younger man.

 

“I don't think you're ready to find out just yet.” Percival hums against his ear, nipping at the lobe and receiving an impatient moan in response as Newt squirms beneath him.

 

Following the outline of Newt's toned frame, Percival's lips trail leisurely across the exposed neck to his collarbone, only pausing occasionally to set a mark with his teeth. The result of his simple teasing is exhilarating.

 

“Perce, please-”

 

“There's no need to rush things.” He can feel Newt stop squirming. Their eyes meet, a sudden timidity to the green pair that blinks up at him in anticipation.

 

“It's not that I don't want to. You're very tempting,” he adds quickly, brushing a slick streak of hair out of Newt's forehead. “But I don't think it's a good idea. At least not yet.”

 

Something in Newt's expression changes and causes him to break eye contact. “I'm sorry. I thought this would be...”

 

A quiet moment passes between them until Percival raises a brow in suspicion.

 

“You planned this, didn't you?”

 

Newt doesn't respond, at least not verbally. But judging by the way he bites down his lip and lightly shrugs, it's all the affirmation he needs.

 

“It seemed like an efficient method to help you recover from your traumatic experience.”

 

“Newt.”

 

“Not that I'm an expert in comforting bipedal specimen per se. But even _I_ know that the lack of social interaction and withdrawal of physical contact can be damaging for the human psyche, not to mention your self esteem...”

 

As Newt gets into a scientific ramble about mating rituals of other mammals resembling those of human beings, Percival is reduced to staring blankly at the younger man who still refuses to meet his gaze. That is, until Percival has enough and interrupts him by pressing his palm on his mouth. At least that did the trick. Perhaps more startled than anything, Newt's head snaps back to give him a bewildered look.

 

“Let me finish, will you.” He can almost feel Newt sigh against his palm, but at least he doesn't resist and keeps eye contact this time. “As much as I appreciate everything you've done for me so far, a pity fuck is the last thing I need right now. I already decided to stay with you without you throwing yourself at me.”

 

Even as he retracts his hand to let Newt breathe properly, the other keeps holding his breath until the message sinks in and he inhales with a quiet surprised “Oh.”

 

“It's not that I'm completely opposed, obviously.” Percival grins and gains a chuckle from Newt in response, seeing how they're still pretty much pressed up soaking wet and very naked against each other. “Call me old fashioned. But I'd actually prefer to get to know you a little better before fucking you senseless.”

 

“Hmm. I didn't take you for the gentleman type.” Newt returns the grin and brings his arms back up around Percival's shoulders, pulling him in for a gentle touch of lips. “Can I still kiss you? I think I'm growing fond of that, actually.”

 

“I'd be offended if you weren't.”

 

Without withdrawing his lips from the other, Percival rolls to his side and pulls Newt tightly against his chest.

 

“Just kissing is fine with me for now.”

 

Newt seems to agree and be more at ease, seeing how he curls up by his side with a content sigh.

 

They lie entangled like this for a while until his body calms down enough to think clearly again. He still wasn't sure if he made the right decision, but he always had the option to change his mind and disappear again once they'd arrive in Liverpool.

Three more days to think. Three more days to make a final decision.

Although deep inside, Percival knew he wouldn't be able to leave again. Not with the prospect of comfort already at hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That..........didn't quite go as planned, especially with that build up. Don't crucify me just yet, something filthy this way comes.  
> Soon.


	4. Somnum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the obligatory akward soft porn bonding time chapter everyone's been waiting for

Time is a tricky, bogus thing. To most it's a natural concept. To Percival Graves however, it's a fiendish piece of shit; trickling by torturously slow during the most straining and tedious tasks while slipping through his fingers during precious moments like this.

 

Covered in soft cotton sheets and lying comfortably with Newt's figure curled around him, it feels like time simply forgot about them. When in reality, there's a constant buzz of faint noise and activity around them outside the shed window while they lay still in the dark of Newt's bedroom. Nothing like the cold, muffled cocoon of his imprisonment. But similar enough to bring back unwanted memories into his small, warm safe space. Yet again, held close in the protective grasp of lanky limbs around him there was no rush. No wish to escape.

 

Percival sighs content and smiles when he feels the grasp around his chest tighten in response, followed by a sleepy groan and hushed murmur.

 

“You're awake.”

 

“So are you,” Percival replies matter-of-factly, unable to suppress a quiet chuckle when he feels Newt huff into his neck.

 

He turns around to face his companion, their noses close enough to touch. Even in the dark he can make out Newt's piercing green eyes on him, watching intently with a slight frown.

 

“Do you have trouble sleeping? I could make you a mild sleeping draught.”

 

“No, nothing of the sort. It's alright.”

 

Apparently that answer wasn't convincing him in the slightest. The frown on Newt's face deepens and he chews on his lower lip, suddenly going very quiet. Percival can almost see the wheels in his head turning and decides to go for a different approach.

 

“I'm fine, just...not used to have someone lying next to me.” He adds quickly and immediately Newt's gaze drops, retracting his arm and leg to shift away.

 

“Oh. I'm sorry. I assumed-”

 

Before Newt can go on and shuffle over any further, Percival closes the distance between them again for a shy press of lips, feeling Newt lean in with a small sigh. This was all still painfully new and perhaps a little overwhelming, but it felt right.

 

Newt's eyes are batted and back on his as they part, waiting. Another dreadful moment of silence passes between them with Percival gathering his thoughts, his hand reaching out to cup the others.

 

“Don't go. I want this.”

 

He breathes a sigh of relief when Newt offers a small smile and he moves closer again, nuzzling his face against Percival's neck.

 

There is something oddly soothing in feeling someones breath and heartbeat pressed up so closely to one's own, unlike being damned to only have the thrum of your own echoing in the dark. Percival closes his eyes and breathes in his scent, picking up on the way Newt's lips curl to a grin against his neck.

 

“What?”

 

“I didn't take you for a cuddler.” Newt replies nonchalantly and Percival could swear to _feel_ the cheeky grin against his neck.

 

“Hm. I didn't take you for someone to deliberately lure rugged strangers into your case to seduce them.”

 

Newt huffs again, perhaps a little offended for being called out, nipping lightly at his neck in response. “I think we're way past the point of strangers, Percival.”

 

Maybe it was the unexpected sensation of teeth that made him gasp, or perhaps the way Newt husked his name. Whatever it was, Newt obviously picked up on it. That insufferable little shit.

 

Suddenly there's a leg snaking between his, Newt's thigh rubbing innocently against his groin. Percival tenses and gasps again, entirely unable to move as Newt does as he pleases with obvious delight in his impish grin.

 

“Just what do you think you're doing?” He asks weakly through a shudder, barely keeping himself from squeezing Newt's hand harshly in response to the friction.

 

“I'm helping you sleep.”

 

“That- is _utterly_ unhelpful.”

 

Percival is surprised by the steadiness in his voice while he internally fights to keep his composure. To his credit, he at least refrains from moaning _too_ much like a needy teenager as Newt's thigh brushes past his cock again.

 

Newt has the audacity to laugh at his protest, a sweet, soft sound that makes Percival's already drumming heart beat even faster.

 

“Depends entirely on your point of view.” Newt replies just as casual and shifts, nipping at his earlobe with clear intent this time, which finally earns him a full grown moan. “I think it's going pretty well.”

 

Percival presses his lips to a thin line to prevent himself from whimpering as Newt's thigh is joined by a persistent yet gentle touch of his hand, making him tense and recoil slightly.

 

“Newt-”

 

He's silenced by a surprisingly soft pair of lips, the pace of the kiss as careful and tender as Newt can bear. Shifting once more, he finds himself straddling Percival's lap, cupping his cheek affectionately as their lips part.

 

“Percival, please. I want this. Let me help you.”

 

Too overwhelmed to form a proper response, Percival is stuck trying to catch his breath through parted lips, Newt's weight resting comfortably still on top of him. His body is undeniably responding positively to Newt's advances, at least that was for sure.

Taking another deep breath, he eventually eases and closes his eyes, leaning into the gentle touch of his hand.

 

“It's been years. I don't know what to do-”

 

He can feel Newt's thumb caress his jawline. A gesture so soft and innocent that he can't help but wince.

 

“You're already doing so well, Perce.” Somehow Percival doubts that, but allows himself to open his eyes to frown up at the other. He isn't met by a mocking smile like he expected, but instead an intrigued gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”

 

“I-” he starts and stops abruptly, averting his gaze and shaking his head. “I'm not sure.”

 

Newt nods in understanding, seemingly satisfied with the response. Seeing how his hips suddenly start moving, sending another shudder through Percival's petrified body.

 

“How about just this? Does that feel good?”

 

“You're _really_ asking that?” Percival responds wryly through a low growl, unable to keep himself from staying indifferent any longer with Newt's pleasantly warm weight squirming painfully teasing on top of his hardening cock. His hands come up to grasp the slender waist, holding him still, only to buck up against him himself. The startled gasp it earns him is more than gratifying. “You tell me.”

 

Newt breathes out in a small laughter. “Point taken.” He smiles and leans forward to seal their lips for another kiss. This time around Percival doesn't hesitate to respond.

 

He keeps the pace leisurely, aligned with a steady rhythm he sets for his hips. Newt allows himself to be moved by the other, merely making use of his hands by trailing them up and down the firm muscles of his chest underneath his shirt.

It doesn't take long until sighs turn into moans. Gentle touches into needy, fumbling grasps. It's nothing short of a messy clash of lips and awkwardly clothed grinding, something he vaguely recalls doing during hot summer nights in his youth with one or the other boy he met in a bar.

 

But with Newt it feels different- more intimate than any other one time encounter of his past. And whatever hesitation he had before is thrown completely out the window the moment Newt mewls his name in response to a fleeting brush of fingertips beneath the rim of his pants.

 

“Perce. Touch me,” It's both a request and a demand, with Newt arching impatiently into the touch, his own palm remaining just out of reach pressed to Percival's abdomen. “Please.”

 

Percival can't help but smirk up at the needy thing on his lap, sliding his hand further beneath the fabric to feel up Newt's length. Newt remains still on top of him, merely sighing in pleasure as Percival's thumb circles the precum slick head of his cock. He doesn't bother attempting to remove his clothes as he starts stroking him in earnest, afraid to break the spell between them.

 

“Yes- just like that. A little harder.”

 

As if to provide a guideline for his more insecure partner, Newt's hand finally closes around Percival's achingly hard arousal, mirroring his actions in a much more steady grasp. The sensation is overwhelming. Percival finds himself moaning and bucking into the offered hand more roughly with each stroke, only causing Newt to squeeze harder around the base.

 

“That's it. I've got you.”

 

Percival arches his back one last time with a whimper, face buried in the crook of Newt's neck as he cums without another warning. Both of them still while Percival catches his breath, soothed by Newt's warmth and lips pressed to the top of his head. He could almost swear to feel him smile.

 

“That wasn't so bad, now was it?”

 

“You're...such a jackass,” Percival growls hoarsely, refusing to leave the comfort of his hideout and instead nuzzling even closer, much to Newt's amusement.

 

“Sorry about the mess. I didn't even get to finish you off.”  
  
“Oh. About that,” Newt grins apologetic and shifts, forcing Percival to retract his hand and only now notice the sticky residue covering his palm. “Suppose it's been a while for both of us.”

 

Newt rolls off the other with a last kiss to his forehead, conjuring a wet cloth from his nightstand to clean himself before handing it over to Percival. They end up lying entangled again, quiet and pleasantly fuzzy, with only the scuffling and scratching of hooves and claws outside the hut breaking the silence.

 

“You didn't have to do that,” Percival speaks up first, following the outline of Newt's shoulder with his fingertips.

 

“Do what?” Newt replies without opening his eyes, humming content at the light touch.

 

“You know exactly what I'm talking about.” He huffs exasperated, causing the other to blink at him defiantly, only to shrug and close his eyes again.

 

“I didn't exactly _have_ to take you in either. But I felt it'd be the right thing to do.”

 

“Out of pity, I presume.”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

Percival's hand stops moving at once, and he can almost see Newt recoil in on himself, his usually sunny and easy-going disposition turning sour at the others persistence.

 

“It matters to me.”

 

Newt doesn't turn over or shrug it off again like before. Instead, his eyes turn hard, fixed on Percival's with an intensity he's not used to see on the shy magizoologist.

 

“If you want to know the truth, pity had nothing to do with it.” He exclaims so devoid of emotion that it sends a cold shiver down Percival's spine. “Your stalking tendencies were rather a nuisance, if anything.” At least some of the familiar snark returns to his tone.

 

“And yet you still decided to take me in.” Percival arches a brow.

 

“Well, obviously. But that was after I learned who you were. I'd heard enough about you from Seuss to know that you wouldn't pose a threat to me or my creatures.”

 

Percival hadn't even thought about that. His brief past with Theseus Scamander laid so far behind that it barely came to his mind anymore. Mostly due to their inevitable link to unpleasant memories of war and death.

 

“All I've done was out of my own free will. You're a good man, Percival Graves. Someone I deem worthy enough to shelter and share my bed with, whether you like it or not.”

 

“And you've decided all that after just one cup of tea?” Percival can't suppress a smirk, seeing the almost childish dedication on Newt's face turn to a smug grin.

 

“Don't make me regret it. I can still throw you overboard and let you swim back to New York with a lovely letter to Madame President attached to your thick head,” he growls in such a non threatening fashion that Percival bursts into laughter. Even a persistent swat at his chest won't make it stop, only fueling the bubbling feeling in his chest. “Nevermind. You can go sleep on the couch again.”

 

“Only if you come with me,” Percival hums once his laughter died down, only clinging tighter to the slender frame with surprisingly little resistance from the other. Quite the opposite. With Newt's face pressed into his chest and a hand clinging stubbornly to the fabric of his shirt, he finds himself slowly succumbing to the heavy drowsiness.

 

“Fine, I suppose you can stay.”

 

Comforting silence and darkness engulfs them not long after, the steadying breathing and warmth of Newt's body soon lulling Percival into deep, dreamless sleep. The first in months.

Perhaps there was something more to unconventional sleep aid methods after all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's almost time for them to make it to liverpool! i'm so excited to get a wider scene to set them in, aside the case interior :D i've got something fun planned, let's see if i can write it all out. hope you enjoyed this small update. if you made it up to this point, thank you for keeping up! your kudos and comments always make my day.


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